


Into the Night-Sky

by Thurinsen



Category: Cultist Simulator (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-04 20:20:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18350999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thurinsen/pseuds/Thurinsen
Summary: Excerpt from a diary of an unknown initiate of the hidden worlds behind the walls of sleep. WIP!





	1. Tuesday, 12th of September, 1922

I have felt uneasy for quite some time now. I can feel something inside me, closeted and hiding at the same time, just waiting to break free. Sometimes, when I stand at the great bridge, spanning the endless flowing waters of the river, I wish I could take to the air, leaving this dreary life behind. But every time I am just reminded of the boundaries of our life.  
I have recently found something to give me hope: a small club, a cabaret of sorts, found in a dimly lit street at the end of a winding alley. On one of my night-time walks through the city I felt drawn to its curtain and shadow draped entrance, like a moth attracted by the light of a bright lamp. There were words on the entrance, the likes of which a can't recall anymore, neither did I understand them upon seeing them. But I could feel a deeper meaning, a greater truth.  
Upon entering the establishment I was greeted by a young lady, in exotic garments and exotic looks. I see her face still when I close my eyes, I can feel and hear her voice singing like the strings of an orchestra. I put aside my cloak and entered the main room, illuminated only by candles giving off a red light. At its center was a stage, dim and dull, wooden and worn from the time and shoes, surrounded by tables and chairs, some pillowed, other hard and uncomfortable, some of them occupied, some empty. I sat down and witnessed the strange dance slowly unfolding before my eyes. The dancer, similar to the lady in the front, in curtain-robes and long clothes, was slowly, piece and piece taking away her garments until nothing of her remained. I left that place with a buzzing in my brain and a light in my eyes.  
That night I dreamt of flight. I could take to the skies, shedding myself of the constraints of dull life and peacefully flying like an angel. There I saw a light, flying ever closer, but it burnt bright and cold and I feared it would consume me.  
I woke up and saw a single moth trying to escape my bedroom through the closed window. I opened it and the creature flew out and away int the dark streets of early dawn. One day. I. will. follow.


	2. Monday, 28th of Septmeber, 1922

Ever since that night in the club and the ensuing dream, I feel something greater. I have become restless. I noticed I put on clothes just to take them off again, I find it quite soothing and these are the rare moments I can find peace nowadays. Whenever I tried to go to the club again it was closed. Every time I saw the closed doors, not letting me enter, my body cracked and craved and shivered.  
I started cracking my knuckles out of compulsion. The cracking sound reminds me of a wood-fire, burning away in a fireplace. My colleagues at the desk, however, have found it to be unsettling and off-putting. I promised to change. I hadn’t noticed how stale and dull my life has become. Every day I live through the same story, of waking, working and sleeping, an endless cycle, never subject to change. Now that I have this feeling growing within me, I yearn to escape this simplicity and find greater meaning.  
During my walks I find myself drawn to trees and parks, where I will often sit and listen to the sounds of the night, still and unmoving. The peace and quiet seem to still my restlessness and for some few moments, I can breathe.  
I have secured a vacation today, starting next week. I will travel to the continent, where I heard of a black forest near the mountains. I must find a guide, or some means of communicating, for I do not speak the local language.


	3. Tuesday, 26th of September, 1922

I write these words sitting in a train, taking me to the port, where a ship’s passage will take me to the continental shores. I sit alone in my room; the other guests have gone eating and watching the landscape from the great panoramic windows on the walkway. I do not find anything in these sights now, they all seem dull and unimportant now. Hills and fields, like a painter’s brush, dragged along a canvas, not looking alike, but ultimately the same. Only trees fascinate me nowadays, I feel a sense of home near them. I went to a bookshop before boarding the train, where I acquired a botanist’s book, detailing the different species of trees found on the continent. There is a section detailing the wildlife and critters living in these woods and I have eagerly read through it. During my stay on the ship, I will make a list of locations I wish to visit, I already know some of them: There is a castle that was devastated by the French armies and a mystical wishing-well nearby, a hidden lake within the forest and a small hamlet on the edge of a mountain.


	4. Friday, 29th of September, 1922

I can feel the ship under my feet. When I stand free, the winds blasting through my hair, I can feel every single part and piece of my body. I spread my arms whilst standing upright, the wind through my limbs, like flight. The salty, briny air penetrates my nose, and I am returned to the world from my short dream of flight. I can hear the creaking of wood, the body of the ship, like a living being. I find it unsettling to think of myself being within another one’s skin, a wrong skin. However, I must say, that it hasn’t felt unfamiliar to my current situation. When I am in my quarters, I lock the door and strip myself of all clothes. I always close the curtains. Then I lie on my back, on the wooden floor, in the ship’s body. I look down my body. Here I am, naked, vulnerable. But I feel like I am myself. Clothes are lies we tell society. Through clothes we can seem like anybody else, a falsehood, a lie we tell even ourselves. Soon I will arrive, where I will take a train southward, to my destination.


End file.
